Staying young
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Growing up ain't as fun as you think
No one can prepare you for the
Zits, quips, stink of uncertainty
The fog that overtakes, blinds, defines you
Picks you up and clouds your judgment,
Second Star to the right
Past Big Ben
Where you must go
Is what I'm told
It's what I've heard
but where to
is my concern
My last thought
b- before I fell
Wishing
Be the Peter to my Wendy and we’ll grow young together.
With nimble feet and sewn on shadows we’ll drift into a bank of memories
piled high and stored in well-lit jars for our wrinkled years.
